


Grand Revenge

by AuroraDefae



Series: Aubrianna Maren Holmes [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-30
Updated: 2013-04-02
Packaged: 2017-12-07 00:09:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 9,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/741807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraDefae/pseuds/AuroraDefae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>READ "PROLOGUE" AND THEN "CASE OF THE FAINTING SISTER" FIRST OR YOU WILL BE HORRIBLY CONFUSED.<br/>You.guys.are.going.to.be.mindblown.by.the.plot.twist. </p><p>Need clarification? Read my frustration for this, "Childhood Memories"</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> READ "PROLOGUE" AND THEN "CASE OF THE FAINTING SISTER" FIRST OR YOU WILL BE HORRIBLY CONFUSED.  
> You.guys.are.going.to.be.mindblown.by.the.plot.twist. 
> 
> Need clarification? Read my frustration for this, "Childhood Memories"

My heart frozen by the fact Moriarty is alive and after me, I just sit in shocked silence. I jolt out of my immobility when the cab goes over a bump, and I yell at the cabbie to stop. I jump out before we even reach a complete stop. And I start to run, my still-healing ankle causing a swaying, lurching run. I try to not bump into people, afraid of pickpockets or what messages could be slipped into my pocket. My hip fails, and I crash to the ground, oxygen barely entering my lungs, the need for it is so great. I can feel myself trembling and allow a quick, hopeless sob before looking around. My vision turns red as my adrenaline rushes, and I realize I am in a dark alley.

“Well, well, well Aubrianna. How very nice to meet you,” comes a cold voice from the dark corners I can not see. My heart freezes, and a shiver goes down my spine. I strain to turn around, lifting my cane to protect me as Moriarty comes out of the gloom, smiling. My heart thuds even faster, and I try to fend of fainting. I fight for breath, trying to speak. The world starts spinning, and I try to stay focused, because who knows what Moriarty will do to me. “Hm...what’s this? Cat got your tongue? It’s just as I’ve been told. Asthma, and failure of limbs after running. Such a shame your brother forgot.”

The cane falls from my trembling hands as oxygen flows back into my lungs. Never has London air seemed so sweet. My vision slowly clears, and I, the absolute idiot that I am, grab the cane and use it to stand up shakily. I ignore the dizzy spell as I stare into his eyes. Realizing my voice will finally work, I reluctantly ask, “What do you want Moriarty?” He smirks, trying some creepy stare at me before saying, “Oh, nothing much. I just know how much it would burn Sherlock for you to have an accident. Fainting of suffocation. Breaking your other ankle. That kind of stuff. Also, to get revenge.”

“OH?? So making him jump off a building and fake his death for three years wasn’t revenge enough?” In my rage, I almost hit Moriarty with my cane, but decide I need it to hold me up. He only replies, “The revenge is not intended for Sherlock,” before stepping back and dissolving into the shadows, “Until next time, Aubrianna.” I back up slowly into the sunshine, my heart thudding. I hear running footsteps, and Sherlock suddenly hugs me. I can feel the relief rolling off of him, and I break down crying in his arms. He scoops me up into his arms, and John starts saying, “..Uh, Sherlock? Are you sure you want to do that with all that blo-.” That is when I realized Sherlock is covered in thick, red blood from his curly hair to his leather shoes. I bite back vomit as I squirm out of his arms, gagging at the smell of it.

“Okay Sher. Why in the world are you covered in blood?” I choke out in between gagging fits. He looks down at himself, as if shocked to discover the red liquid on him. I am trying to shake some of it off my arms when his memory comes back to him and he replies, “My network of information informed me of a murder scene, and it turned out to be a huge pool of blood. I slipped and fell into it.” I look at him with my best ‘are you kidding me’ face, and retort, “Are you sure you didn’t take a bath in it or something? You’re bloody soaked to the bone, no pun intended.” I wink at him as he groans, and turn around, intending to walk back to Baker Street. That was when my hip gave out again and John had to help me walk as three of us parade down the sidewalk, the crowd parting and whispers spreading. My nerves are jittery, and I just start laughing my head off, imagining what a sight we all are. Pretty soon, Sherlock joins in, and that makes me laugh even harder, and I can't stand on my legs anymore. Sherlock scoops me up, carrying me despite all the blood that covers him, and now me, from head to foot.  
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	2. Chapter 2

We arrive at Bakers Street, and promptly give Mrs. Hudson a heart attack at the sight of our bloodied clothes. She arrives in our flat only seconds later with a big bottle of hydrogen peroxide, which Sherlock ignores as he paces around, thinking.

I watch Sherlock pace back and forth for awhile, then stand up and go to my bedroom. The smell of blood is nauseating as I replay the encounter with Moriarty. I had watched with the secrecy of Jessica Decalte as he tried to kill Sherlock, as he broke into the crown jewels, as he forced my brother to jump, and had shot himself in the mouth. I had known my brother was alive those three years, and almost revealed myself then to John to comfort him in his anger and grief. It had only been my conviction that Sherlock was exiling himself for a reason that had kept me away.

When I walk back out, Sherlock is still pacing and John is typing on his blog. I scoop up the bottle of hydrogen peroxide, calling out as I search for a bucket, "I'm washing all the bloody clothes! Bring them to me or forever hold your peace!"

I glance out as I realized no one was listening to me. John is sitting in his jumper smeared with blood, and Sherlock is leaving footprints all over the carpet. Sherlock' phone starts to ring, and I watch as he paces faster. It reaches the end of it ringing, and then starts up again. “Okay, I give up on you two,” I call out to the ceiling above me as I flop onto the floor in the kitchen.

All of us ignoring each other is interrupted by a loud knock on the door. I watch from where I am flopped as Sherlock goes and opens it. I hear a little kid gasp with surprise, then he walks in, looking around with the curiosity of childhood. He sees me, turns to Sherlock, and asks, “Is she dead?” I groan and army crawl out of sight. I haul myself into a chair, and, reaching sitting position, look at Sherlock with raised eyebrows. He looks at me, then down at the kid, who is so short he can barely touch his shoulder. “Hey kid, what’s your name?” I ask before Sherlock says something insensitive. “Adam,” comes the simple reply. “So...what’s up?” I ask him, tapping my fingers on the underside of the table. Adam absentmindedly responds, “Nothing much..” before trailing off. I look at the kid, tilting my head, and say, “if you don’t have a mystery for us to sol-” “Except the fact my mum and sister are missing,” the kid interrupts as he inspects Sherlock’s microscope.

Sherlock just stands there in his personal puddle of blood as he I exchange glances, occasionally looking at the kid. I can see the deja vu on Sher’s face. I sigh. “Okay, three things. One: Sherlock William Holmes, please get out of those bloody clothes. Two: I’m hungry. In fact, I need food. Three: Kid, I’ve been through this. Or at least, I was a part of it. So sit down and tell me everything.” As Sherlock squalshes off, the kid slowly draws a chair back, the legs squealing across the floor. When he is finally sitting down, his head only a few inches above the tabletop, he starts his story.

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	3. Chapter 3

"I go to the private school five blocks from here, St. Peters, and arrive back home around four in the afternoon. Five, if I play king-of-the-hill with my friends. My mumsy always has a snack waiting for me, but when I arrived home yesterday on Friday, there wasn't one. My sister, Laurence wasn't in her room practising her painting as she always is. She's ten and has cooties, by the way."

"My daddy died a few years ago, so it's just me, Laurence and mumsy. I'm actually pretty hungry. Can I have a cookie?"

I just stare at the kid before heaving myself up to search the cabinets. The first few reveal pickled things that make me want to spew right there. I resist the urge to, walking to the living room and asking John if he knows if there are cookies somewhere. He thinks for a while, then comes and helps me search after greeting Adam. The kid, instead of hello, greets John with, "You're short."

Once we finally find a chocolate chip cookie, the kid sits there munching as I wait to see if there will be more to the story. I wait an awkwardly long amount of time to realize that was it. I stand up saying after a sigh,“I’ll need to talk to my brother. He’s the genius. We’ll have to wait for him to come back though.” Only seconds later, Sherlock comes into the kitchen, carrying a heap of bloody clothes and dumping them into the bucket before turning to the two of us. The kids told his story again as Sherlock listens, his head resting on his hands. Please don’t say something insensitive Sher, just please don’t, I wish in my head as I watch Sherlock take in Adam’s story.

“So, Adam, why do you think they abandoned you?”

“Sherlock! Don’t say that!” I yell across the kitchen at him. “Aubrianna Mare-” Sherlock starts to say, but I quickly interrupt. “You are so insensitive, it absolutely infuriates me. I can’t believe you!” By now, Sherlock’s hackles are raised and he yells back at me, “Aubrianna Maren Holmes, don’t tell me what to do! Get out!”  
I was about to argue back when John came in and punched Sherlock straight in the face. Adam, who was cowering in a corner, Sherlock, and I just stood there in shock. John turned around and walked back out to the living room. Rubbing his cheek, Sherlock says, “Okay that may have been insensitive of me to say, but you didn’t have to do that John!” he ends up yelling towards John’s direction.

I just put my head in my hands, totally giving up on this family. “Sher...we’ve gotten distracted. I’m heading out somewhere. You solve this.” I walk out as everyone stares at me, grabbing my bag and randomly walking away from Baker Street. I ignore my phone, knowing it will be Sherlock telling me to watch out for Moriarty. Realizing I have walked a great distance already, I glanced around, realizing I was in a park. Public enough to be safe, hopefully. I check my phone to discover that Sherlock had indeed texted me about Moriarty, and that, once again, he knew where I was. Trying to clear my head, I sat down and closed my eyes, meditating, waiting for Moriarity. As I focused on a serene scene of my imagination, I began to feel normal. That was before I heard the hum of electricity and barely moved in time before I was tasered by a stocky man in black. People in the park were suddenly screaming, running around as I tried to figure out how to face this stranger who was out to get me. Deciding to try a peaceful approach, I put my hand up half-heartedly and slowly said, “I’ll go peacefully if you tell me who sent you and where we’re going.”

The man had obviously expected a fight and struggle, a heroic struggle and a shaming defeat, so he stood there, taken aback, silent and shocked. I dared not flinch as the chaos happened around us in a world quite distant. Slowly and hesitantly, the man lowered the taser, and said stiffly, “The name that is never said sent me. He has asked me to collect you to get revenge.” Moriarty’s words from earlier rang in my ears as I absorbed the statement. What could he hold against me? “Can..can you just blindfold me or something? I have bad experience with being knocked out.” He thought for a moment, then said, “Come to this spot tonight at midnight. Bring anyone else at their own risk. I will blindfold you, and drive or walk you to the meeting place. Do not meet me here, and you will come to great harm. So long.” At this, he turns and jogs off, leaving me standing as sirens start to descend on the park. Grabbing my bag, I ran off before I end up on the front page for the third time in the last four months.  
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	4. Chapter 4

I arrived home to find Sherlock angrily playing his violin and Adam asleep on the couch despite the racket. When the floor creaked, Sherlock spun around and jabbed out his violin bow as if it was a sword. I just stood there staring at him, giving him my ‘are you kidding me’ face again before dropping into a armchair. “Hey Sher, we’re meeting Moriarty tonight. Park at midnight. Hope you don’t have plans,” I say as I relax to the beautiful music that abruptly goes out of tune as Sherlock hears me. “I met one of his cronies, who tried to taser me by the way- rude- and he decided to blindfold me and lead me to the meeting spot. I’m going to sleep, because this is going to be a looooooong night.”

I struggle out of the chair and headed to my bedroom, listening for Sherlock to pick up his violin music. I follow the tune when he does with a smile, jumping on my bed and falling asleep immediately.  
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	5. Chapter 5

Bleary-eyed, I blink in the light of my bedside lamp, slowly taking in Sherlock’s face as he shakes me. I yawn and sit up, smoothing my hair. The clock reads 11:20 p.m. Watching as Sherlock tosses some candy and snack bars into my bag, I stand up, rubbing my eyes and heading for the door. I grabbed my cane on the way out, hoping it wouldn’t be taken from me because I really wanted a weapon for whatever tonight might hold. I see Sherlock leaving a message for John. I feel my brother fall in step behind me as I led the way to the park. The night was quiet and subdued, at least for London. We passed about twenty people, and Sherlock whispered deductions to me when they were out of hearing distance. The softer electric hum of streetlamps buzzed around us as I bravely approached the man. I heard Sherlock stop whispering, and knew he would start panicking inwardly because he couldn’t make a deduction about the six-foot man that looked down at my brother. I took the bandanna with a fake curtsy, tying it tight over my eyes and crossing my arms in impatience. After Sherlock protested about covering his eyes, I heard a quiet threat before Sherlock complied with a grumble. I knew the protest was fake; he could be drunk and blind and still know his way around London. A huge, strong hand came on my shoulder and began to lead me and Sherlock to the meeting place. This was seriously scarier than my near murders, as I tripped over loose cobblestones and cracks in the sidewalk. I breathed deeply, trying to prevent my adrenaline from rushing. I heard sobbing, and realized it was me. The hand on my shoulder tensed as Sherlock groped in his blindness for me, putting his arm on my shoulders as we marched on.

We arrived shortly at a building, where I slowly passed through a door frame into the cold interior. I felt my blindfold slipped off, and I gasped when I could see.

I was standing by the swimming pool where Moriarty had first revealed himself to Sherlock. And there he was in his finely tailored suit. My heart froze, and I knew this night’s story would live forever if we survived.  
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	6. Chapter 6

“What do you want with my sister, Moriarty?” Sherlock said as he leveled a gun at his archenemy, shoving me behind him. I peeked around my brother in time to see Moriarty smirk before asking, “Since when did your frozen heart melt my dear Mr. Holmes?” Dear god, I thought as I saw the gun waver. Moriarty paced closer to us, inspecting his fingernails before answering my brother’s question. “Aubri just so happened to put my brother in prison. It was quite rude.” Both Sherlock and I said, “Wut?” at the same time as we digested the fact Moriarty had a brother.

“Um...when was this?” I asked from behind Sherlock’s back. I could hear the disgust in his voice as he replied, “The case where you exposed Eli Brooke as the kidnapper of that beastly family.” Oh god. I remember that case. I ignore Sherlock’s confused look and ran through that case and all the details, which came back vividly. The nanny had been flustered and had sat on a bookshelf as she tried to hide the child’s journals. They had revealed he loved to frequent the playground two blocks from the apartment building. When we had gotten there, kids had been arguing with their parents that they couldn’t go on the playground; it was haunted. When asked, they said a small, mousy man in black sunglasses had taken the boy I was searching for. He headed in that direction they had said. After some arguing about which direction that really was, I hugged them all and ran north. I had nixed the warehouse search for the office building under construction. I hastily ran up the stairs (this being before I broke my ankle) and reached the top floor to peek into a room to find the mysterious kidnapper and the kid all trussed up. I had backed away and called the police as soon as I ascertained the kid was not in immediate harm.

I was jolted out of my flashback by Sherlock suddenly saying, “Wait. You’re Jessica Decalte, the one who has solved crimes before they even asked for my help. Well done, Aubri.” I glanced up at him. He was still aiming his gun at Moriarty, but had a look of pride and fire in his eyes as he faced his greatest enemy.

The moment was shattered seconds later as a red dot appeared on Sherlock’s back, right where his heart was. My heart leapt into my throat, and I felt my adrenaline rush in protective anger. I tore the gun out of Sherlock’s hand and leveled it at Moriarty. The dot moved from Sherlock to me. My brother noticed this, and tried to pry the gun out of my hands. I kicked him, yelling, “If one of us must die tonight, it shall not be you!” I cursed how I became eloquent in speech when I was stressed as Moriarty doubled over giggling. My only other thought was of how John would take Sherlock’s real death. Not only would he die, but the world would cripple too, without even knowing. I glanced at Sherlock. I decided not to do that again, or I would give up and crumble. Another dot trained on me, and my heart trembled.

The doors that I had come through not a half hour earlier now banged open, and I turned quickly to see John storm in, gun immediately training on Moriarty. “Three years, Moriarty. Three bloody years. You. Are. Going. To pay.” At that, he shoved me away, and I fell down. The dots now trained on him, except now it was at least twenty. I was so shocked that Sherlock was able to take the gun right out of my hand. He went and stood next to John. I watched as they exchanged smiles, ignoring the glowing red dots trained on both of them. Moriarty recovered his voice and said, “A Holmes must die tonight. I would prefer Aubri for revenge, but I’ll take Sherlock so I can be the consulting criminal for once without him interfering with my business.”

“-And if you guys need incentive to give in to me, Adam might never sees his family again.” Moriarty snapped his fingers, and a small teenage girl was shuffled out of the changing rooms. Every dot trained on my two companions moved to her, and Adam’s sister whimpered. My heart thundered as Sherlock’s gears turned, his gun arm shaking. I was shocked when his hand moved down, as if in surrender.

I watched as my brother and John were bound with thick rope by the stocky man, who jerked the ropes as if teasing the great detective. For some reason, I was ignored as the events unfolded. I slowly began to creep towards the dressing room about two feet behind me, all the while watching the red dots and Moriarty. Adam’s mother and sister were untied and the dots moved from them.......to me, and my mind started going a thousand miles per hour.  
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	7. Chapter 7

I was on the verge of a heart attack when the doors slammed open and people came pouring in. I glanced towards Moriarty, but the door I guess he escaped through was slowly swinging shut. The dots disappeared, and I let out my breath. Lestrade came running over to me, but I shook my head. There was no earthly way that I was going to stand up. His knees popped as he crouched down and picked me up. I snuggled close to him, the events of that night taking their toll on me. Sherlock came over to Lestrade and I, hugging us. John just stood by us fidgeting until Sherlock pulled him into the hug before trying to take me from Lestrade. He protested, saying, “No. You’re in shock, and so you can’t carry Aubri. Someone get him a blanket.”

I laughed as my brother’s exasperation came back as he sighed sarcastically. He just gave me a look, and I stuck my tongue out at him. Lestrade motioned for my brother, Adam’s sister, and John to follow him as we walked to the doors, emerging into the flashing lights of what seemed to be the entire police force of London. We waded through the sea of people towards a dusty black sedan. He opened the back door with his foot, setting me in the back seat. I practically oozed onto it as I yawned, promptly falling half asleep, half awake, vaguely noticing my three companions getting in. I sluggishly moved to Sherlock, and fell asleep on his arm.  
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	8. Chapter 8

When I stumbled into the living room rubbing my eyes, Sherlock was investigating a web of papers and pictures on the wall, while John dozed off on the couch. Adam and his sister, Laurence, were huddled together asleep on the armchair. I slowly crept to the kitchen, trying to not wake anyone up. I was wondering what happened to the mother when Sherlock began muttering, “Come one. Come on” over and over. I leaned out of the kitchen and shushed him. He ignored me and continued muttering, getting louder until eventually Laurence got up stretching. Turning a quick glare on Sherlock, I pulled a smile and looked at Laurence, walking over to her and her brother. I picked up Adam, who was still a bit asleep, and took her hand.

It was as I was frying eggs that I must have turned the wrong way, causing a spasm of pain up my bad leg, crying out in pain while I collapsed. From where I was, I could see Sherlock still looking at his photos and muttering. Trying to catch his attention and get help, I began to cry in bursts. This amounted to nothing, and I sighed before steeling myself to stand up. I decided this was a useless effort and turned off the stove from where I was laying on the floor.

Sherlock came in, saw me, and asked me why I was lying on the floor. I answered back with something that was more moans and grumbles than actual words.

In a manner quite unlike him, he stepped over me and turned back on the stove. I raised my eyebrows in shock. He usually didn’t eat on the case, claiming digestion slowed him down. “Changing habits brother?” I asked him. He looked down at me, his face partially open, a little care showing through. He went back to frying as John stumbled in, his hair sticking up in the back. His shocked, “Sherlock” came out as he took in the scene of my brother cooking. When he saw me, he rushed over and helped me get up.

Eventually, my brother turned around with scrambled eggs in the saucepan, thunking it on the table before returning to his photo collage. That was the Sherlock I knew. Laurence and Adam dug in, taking portions way too big. As I began eating, I realized it had been two days since I had properly eaten.

I leaned back eventually, my stomach full as Laurence and Adam started to leap around a bit, having energy in them.

That was when my phone pinged, and I unlocked it. I smiled, thinking I had finally found the unhackable password (:Amarethurwill:, a phonetic scramble of my two brother’s middle names, William and Arthur). My new message popped up, and I was shocked once again.

Mycroft:  
>What’s this I hear about Moriarty?  
>Are you okay Aubri?

I quickly replied:

>Uh... yes...

I put my phone in my pocket before going to stand in the living room. I ignored my phone pinging, and watched Sherlock, where he was tossing around his violin, as if juggling. I winced when it came very close to dropping onto the floor. I limped forward, my leg still sore, taking the violin from him mid arch. He came out of his ‘mind palace’ as he deemed it, trying to grab the violin back. I held it out of his reach, grabbing the bow and putting it to the strings. I squeaked out a few notes before somewhat getting the hang of it. A few discordant notes passed by, and I watched my brother wince when I went too sharp or flat.

He lunged for the violin again, seizing it from my hands. A fine dusting of Rosin settled on me, and I sneezed as the white powder entered my nose.

Instead of juggling the violin, he set hair to string and began to play. “Oh come on now- you’re showing off! Sher!” I complained to his back before sitting down and enjoying the tranquil music. Pulling out my phone, I smiled at my password and opened messaging. Mycroft again.

>You need to tell me these things.  
>I find out, but through untrustable spies.  
>And Sherlock definitely won’t tell me.

I glanced at my brother’s back, framed against the tall, thin window. I typed back:

>He certainly won’t.

I was reading a book I had found resting by the chair I was in when my phoned pinged yet again. I picked it up, fully prepared to grumble at Mycroft. Instead, this greeted me:

>Tick tock, Tick Tock  
>Time is ticking, ticking on a life.  
>Tick Tock  
>RB/M

Richard Brooke/ Moriarty. I yelped and threw my phone across the room, my heart freezing. The music stopped and Sherlock turned to stare at my as if I had grown a unicorn horn or something. I just sat there, staring into his eyes, speechless in the fear clutching my heart. With a puzzled look, he went over to where my phone had feel, looking at where the message was still frozen on screen. He went very still as he read it, before turning to John. Vaguely gesturing at me with the violin bow, he told him, “I’m going out. Comfort Aubri.”

“Oh no you don’t! I’m coming with you Sher,” I shouted after him as he ran out with my phone still in his hands. I grabbed his from the coffee table, throwing my bag over my shoulder as I rushed out after him. I arrived onto the street closely tailed by John, getting outside just as a taxi pulled out into the street. I hastily hailed another cab, giving instructions to the cabbie to follow that car.

“I’ve always wanted to say that,” I said to John as I got my breath back. He grinned before asking, “What was that message?” I quickly relayed it to him, and he gave a small, “Oh, okay,” before looking out the window.  
We jerked through traffic, taking sudden turns and making abrupt stops, only to start again in a rush. I opened up Sherlock’s messaging easily, meeting no passwords. I texted to my phone that John and I were following him, and that the taxi that was trying to follow him was us. After a few moments, the ride got a bit smoother, and I typed out a quick thank you.

As we wove through traffic, Big Ben suddenly loomed up above us. I felt tiny in the structure’s big shadow. I found myself shivering.

Our cab stopped, and I saw Sherlock getting out. Big Ben was our destination.

Tick, Tock  
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	9. Chapter 9

Sherlock was concluding a phone call on my phone when I went to shove his phone at him.  
“.....Yes, thank you, got to go. Bye Mrs. Hudson.”

He took his phone, giving me mine back. He saw me looking quizzically at him, and said, “Mrs. Hudson’s babysitting Laurence and Adam.” I smiled as he stalked to Big Ben. There was hope for him yet. He had even remembered the kid’s names. I took a steadying breath before following John and my brother into Big Ben.

As we were carefully walking up the stairs, I could hear gears turning, then thunderous gongs sounded. I felt like I was experiencing an earthquake. The stairs were painful as I lost my footing and fell down a flight. I landed in a heap at the bottom, picking myself up before falling right back down. Once the thunder died down, I called to my brother, “Sher, you’re going to have to carry me. That fall really hurt.” He looked down at me, sighing, before coming down the stairs to where I was and letting me crawl onto his back. It was like this that we continued up to the top of Big Ben, up to Moriarty and hopefully to the kid’s mom.  
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	10. Chapter 10

As we continued up, we passed colossal bells, and I stared at them. They were huge. Sherlock continued past them, barely glancing at them as if they were a common sight. soon enough, we reached a platform. And I stared open-mouthed through the glass clock faces, out at the city sprawled around us. I was so distracted I didn’t notice the woman who was standing at one of the clock faces, looking out. Sherlock set me down on the ground before taking out a pistol and glancing around, as if to find escape routes. John quickly helped me crawl out of the way, to one of the clock faces, before going to join Sherlock.

I was the one to notice Moriarty as he walked onto the platform, and I called out my brother’s name quietly to alert him. Sherlock’s enemy was inspecting his fingernails and whistling, occasionally clicking his tongue as if it was a clock. I glanced at the kid’s mum. She seemed fine, and there were no red dots on her, thankfully. Maybe not thankfully, I thought as I watched Moriarty, wondering what he was going to pull this time.

He glanced up at us and grinned. “Oh, don’t worry, Sherlock, Aubri, you aren’t going to be harmed. Just consider it a very close tie between all of us.” Sherlock and I glanced at each other before he directed towards Moriarty, “What do you know Moriarty?”

I inwardly groaned. This arguing and one-upping was not quite unlike the sibling rivalry between Mycroft and Sherlock when they were younger. I put my head against the glass of the clockface, closing my eyes. I almost dozed off a little even. However, my eyes flew open when Sherlock finally got the secret out of Moriarty.

“Moriarty, tell me, or I will shoot one of these clock faces and the police will be here within seconds.”

“Okay, whatever you say....” Moriarty said slowly, as if relishing each word. “Brother.”  
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/p>


	11. Chapter 11

Brother? Brother? My mind was spinning. It couldn’t be. Unless...

That one time I had run home and met Sherlock in the field where we used to pretend to be pirates. His hair had been brushed by a loving hand, not our nanny. He had been dressed in a button up and a sweater, better than our nanny had ever forced him into. He had turned and walked away as if I was a ghost, as if... as if he had a home to go to.

Interrupting the silence, I sighed before asking, “Is there something you would like to tell me, Sherlock?” He had lowered his gun, getting an odd look from John. Sherlock replied, “When you and Mum ran away unexpectedly and were then proclaimed dead, Father remarried. I ran away with Mycroft before I even knew if I had a stepbrother or stepsister. So...Moriarty may be telling the truth. Hello, Richard.”

I slowly stood up and limped to Sherlock. “Is this some kind of gag, Moriarty? You’ve almost killed my brother, your brother supposedly, how many times?” He looked guilty when he tried to counter, “Well, that was befor-” He didn’t finish because I jumped on him in a fit of spontaneous rage, knocking him to the ground. Moments later, I felt Sherlock pull me off of Moriarty. “Sher!” I protested. Sherlock just put me down and then stood there rubbing his temples as Moriarty/Richard stood up and brushed off his Westwood suit.

"But don't think being my stepbrother will stop me from attacking you Richard," Sherlock suddenly yelled at Moriarty as he tried to come closer to me. Moriarty stopped moving towards me, taking a step back. I smiled in spite of myself. I then tried to speak, but my throat was scratchy, so I cleared it, causing my brother and Moriarty to look at me. I flushed before saying, “So why aren’t you a Holmes,...Richard?” I said, adding his apparent name as an afterthought.

“Oh, um..that. I ran away from home, to start my acting career, and I used mum’s maiden name. She refused to take the Holmes name, so I didn’t know of it until moments ago," Richard said to my brother and I. His hand twitched subconsciously, and both Sherlock and I latched onto it. My brother looked at me out of the corner of his eyes, and I slightly moved my head in a nod before he asked Richard, “So was Adam’s mum a ploy to get Aubri and I here?”

Rubbing the back of his neck, Richard glanced at her and said with a wave of his other hand, “Yea, she’s completely safe. You can lead her down and to her children.” John started to walk to the clockface where the mum was standing, but Sherlock stopped him. When they were muttering to each other, their heads turned away from Richard, I noticed his top lip turn up in a quick smirk before Sherlock turned back around with his gun up. But instead of pointing it at Richard, he pointed it at the clockface I had been standing near, and fired six consecutive shots. We all jumped a little, except for my brother and my supposed step-brother, who were staring at eachother.

The ringing silence after the shots seemed to echo around as the bells slowly started to toll again. I was able to keep my footing as the platform shook. I realized it was noon as the bells kept on ringing.

That was when the glass shattered. My scream was lost in the bells and the delicate roar of the clockface’s glass. I felt someone grab me, pulling me away from the platform. I hoped it was Sherlock as we entered where the bells were now ringing to a stop. I jerked out of the hands that were half carrying and half pushing me to come face to face with Richard. “Aubri-,” he started. I opened my mouth to cut him off when the doors to the platform were thrown open and Sherlock came through, John and the woman following at a distance. Angry could not describe the look on my brother’s face. He was red-in-the-face livid as he stormed down and shoved me behind him.

“It is only on the premise that you might be my stepbrother that I am not firing this gun Richard. Leave here, and if I ever see you near Aubri, I will not hesitate to protect her.” Richard glanced at me one last time before turning and running down the steps. Sherlock followed at a slower pace, his arm around my shoulders in a protective gesture.

When we got to the street and Sherlock was hailing a cab, I fully expected for us all to cram into it. instead, Sherlock turned to John and told him, “Take Adam’s mum to the flat and relieve Mrs. Hudson of her babysitting. Aubri and I need to talk to Mycroft.” John looked at me, then at Sherlock, before protesting, “No. Aubri is tired and emotionally traumatized. Let her come with me.” Sherlock puffed out his cheeks, then acquiesced and said, “Fine. I’ll tell my brother about this on my own.”

I gratefully got into the cab, squeezing next to John, who was sandwiched between the woman and I. Slipping out my phone, I texted Mycroft:

>Sher’s coming your way  
>He’s pretty upset and mad.  
>Another Moriarty encounter.  
>Good luck.

I slipped my phone back into my pocket, laying back and trying to unwind. As John had said, I was very stressed. I must have fallen asleep, because next thing I knew, John was shaking me and I realized we were at Baker’s street. I looked at him sleepily, saying, “Nothing else is allowed to happen today.” He smiled before taking my hand and helping me out. As we walked in, I could hear the joyful reunion above, in the flat. I put my brothers and my supposed stepbrother out of my mind as I took in the scene. I slowly walked to the couch, laying down and promptly falling asleep, ignoring my phone.  
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	12. Chapter 12

A door slammed in the flat, and I jerked awake. The lights that had been turned on burned my eyes as I groggily sat up, yawning and stretching. I was distracted from waking up, however, by the reflection in the mirror. I turned around, taking in the mass of newspaper articles and pictures. I had grown used to these webs in the time I had been living here, but this...this was different.

Photos of my family, my mum and dad smiling cheerfully. I fingered the small photo of Mycroft smiling. It was the only one we had where Mycroft looked happy. I noticed birth certificates for all of us, even my parents. I saw marriage permits. All the articles where I had appeared in the newspaper were also pinned up. I harrumphed at the headline ‘SHERLOCK’S SISTER DANGEROUS?’ that blared out. But my eye was drawn to the dry erase board nailed up amidst this collage of my family. I realized with a pang that it was a family tree, complete with a question mark extending from my father to Moriarty/Richard. And, written in big, bold, black letters, was a note from Sherlock telling me to call him. I erased it with my sleeve, pulling out my phone and dialing. It rang three times before Sherlock picked up.

“Yes, hello Aubri,” came Sherlock’s voice before he abruptly shouted, “Shut up Mycroft!”

“Mycroft is being annoying? Alert the pre-”

“Aubri, this is serious. Quit joking around.”

This caught my attention. “What do you need me to do, Sher?” I asked, rubbing my forehead. A headache was already threatening.

"You need to call father," came the simple reply.

“And you can’t because....?” I was really hoping Sherlock was not wary of talking to father.  
"He's memorized Mycroft's and I's numbers, and has chosen to ignore us. He doesn't know yours, so I need you to ask a question before he hangs up."

My headache was bordering on a migraine now. "Okay, what's the question?"  
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	13. Chapter 13

The phone rang in my ear, and I wiped my sweaty hand on my jeans. When the dialing stopped and an annoyed voice answered, I hastily swallowed before speaking. "Hello. This is Aubrianna....father." I heard a breath of surprise and then some muttering about how in the world I got his unlisted number, until he said, "Sherlock" and went quiet.

"Father, I need to ask you a question." I waited for confirmation that I could ask him and get a straight answer. "Wai- don't hang up on me-" I quickly shouted as I heard the phone drawn away from his face ( his breathing was quieter.)

"Aubrianna, what is the question?"

I took a deep breath before replying, "Do I have stepbrothers?" My father's reply was simple and impatient, "Yes."  
I hung up without a goodbye. Seems Richard really was my step brother.

I was startled from my train of thoughts as my phone started to ring. I checked it with a sigh, expecting Sherlock. I raised my eyebrows in tired surprise when I saw ‘father’ flashed across my screen. I hit ignore, sinking onto the couch. A photo fluttered down, landing in my lap. I picked it up, staring at the strange family that was, in fact, my own. There was my two brothers and I, all dandied up as if we had just come from tea. My mother was looking at my dad and laughing, who was nearly doubled over in laughter, his arm casually slung around her shoulders. This is not my family, I thought as I stood up to pin it to the wall. My phone pinged, then started ringing. I hit ignore again, clicking on my messaging. The text was from Sherlock.

>You get an answer yet?

I sighed, texting back:

>Yes. We do.  
>Father won’t stop calling me  
>Where are you?

He quickly texted back:

>Mycro’s house.

I grabbed my bag, walking out of the flat with one last glance at the photo of my family. I suddenly realized I had tears in my eyes, and I leaned against the door to our flat, allowing a quick sob before I steeled myself to continue to the street and hail a cab.  
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	14. Chapter 14

As I handed the cabbie money for the fare, I asked if I looked like I had been crying. I got out and walked off quickly when he tried to ask me what was wrong. How do you tell an ordinary person the complexities of the Holmes family?

After knocking on the door, I shivered and stomped my feet. I had forgotten my coat in the rush to get out of the flat and away from the pictures on the wall.

John eventually opened the door, reacting when he saw me standing on the doorstep without a jacket. He shrugged his off, putting it over my shoulders as I walked in, looking around. I could hear my two brother arguing, and one of them, probably Sherlock, was pacing back and forth.

"Time to face the music," I muttered with a sigh, walking towards the two voices at the end of the hallway. When I arrived to the door frame, I saw that it was indeed Sherlock pacing. Mycroft was sitting in a leather armchair by the fire. They both ignored me as I came in and sat down on the one piece of furniture that looked comfy: a sofa shoved into the corner, out of the way.

I jumped when Sherlock spun around and pointed at me, watching him squint his eyes at me. "Is that John's jacket?" I sleepily nodded, yawning until my phone started to buzz. I looked at it before throwing it to Sherlock, saying, "Sher, it's father. You answer it and tell him to leave me alone."

He clicked accept and held the phone up to his ear as my other brother and I looked at him expectantly. For a good ten minutes, he didn't say anything except for, "Yes, it's Sherlock." He just paced around, listening. I shushed John when he came in, asking who was on the phone.

Eventually, Sherlock said, "Okay, bye," and hung up. Mycroft and I had both leaned forward in anticipation, waiting for our brother to tell us what father wanted. "Aubri....he said that he..." Sherlock paused, and I tried to not sigh in frustration, "that he’s sorry.”

Sorry?

For passing on the family problem? For basically ignoring my brothers and I all these years? Or was he really that ignorant and was apologizing for almost sending me to private school?

I pulled myself out of my thoughts as I heard a phone ring. Sherlock was texting someone rather intently . My face formed into its too normal ‘are you kidding me’ face as I walked over and peeked over his elbow at the screen. He was using his homeless network to keep track on Mo..Richard, and was also apparently trying to scoop out the truth of this whole situation.

“Sherlock, I don’t see your obsession with this,” Mycroft suddenly uttered under his breath as his brother began to pace.

“Mycroft, I need to know if my enemy is related to me!” Sherlock shouted back at my older brother, his phone nearly flying out of his hands as he threw them up in agitation. I just looked back and forth between my brothers, sighing. They continued arguing in this manner, Sherlock waving his hands around and telling Mycroft to shut up.  
John came to stand by me as I waited for my brothers to calm down. The fire started to die down, and the room got colder. Not able to stand this rivalry and arguing, I shouted as loud as I could, “Alright you two, shut up!” They didn’t even pause or notice me. “Sherlock William Holmes and Mycroft Arthur Holmes, get quiet.” Sherlock stopped mid rant, his hands halfway up, to stare at me. “You two have certainly not changed at all. Sher, you need to calm down,” I said, stressing calm down as Mycroft began straightening his tie. Sherlock harrumphed and straightened his coat, walking out past John and I. “Are you....?” I directed towards my elder brother, who looked up at me and nodded before setting his face on his hands and staring into the fire mysteriously. I groaned, running out after Sherlock.

Outside, rain was coming down in torrents, and both John and I stepped into the street to try to hail a cab. He was in front of me, and I leaned around him to look as a car came barrelling down the nearly empty road. I slipped as I leaned too far, falling down hard into the street. I instinctively screamed as the headlights bore down on where I was. John was too far away, and noticed too late.

That was when I felt arms hastily push me, and I rolled over, the car passing inches from me. I noticed a hand near my face, and I took it as they helped me stand up. I stared in shock at Richard. He was equally as drenched as me, his expression blank as he waited for me to say something. Instead of asking why he saved me, or even if he was following me, I stuttered out, “Ar...are you...” but my voice died off as I shivered. He took a step towards me, and I shied back when I realized he was about to hug me.

I ran around him, splashing through the street puddles to John, leaving Richard in the pouring rain in the middle of the street. I pull John away from the side of the street, dragging him until he looks away from Richard. I spare one last glance at him. My stepbrother - I had no doubt by this point- was turned away from me, his shoulder hunched as he walked in the opposite direction.

If things could just be different, I sighed.  
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	15. Chapter 15

"It took you two a while to get here," Sherlock said from where he was staring at the family web.  
Trying to squeeze out some of the water from my hair, I replied with as impassive of a tone as I could muster, "If it hadn't been for Richard, I would have been run over." Sherlock turned around, protectiveness showing through his mask. "Are you....?" I sighed and replied, "Yes," before walking to my bedroom to change. I could hear John and my brother conversing behind me.

When I walked into the living room in sweatpants and an oversized shirt moments later, Sherlock was playing his violin, pausing to make notes. As I watched him, an idea occurred to me, and I spoke to my brother's back, "Why don't we just call Ms. Brooke? She's sure to be keeping tabs on her sons, even if they're two common criminals." Sherlock glanced at me mid-note before he sarcastically replied, "Why not Aubri? That's a fantastic idea!" He scowled, then turned back around to continue composing his new piece.

I glanced at John, who just shrugged before going back to typing. Before retorting to Sherlock's sarcasm, I crossed my arms and cleared my throat to get his attention. "Sher, what did you do to her?" Over his violin music, he replied, "I pulled a prank on her the night before the wedding."

I was a bit shocked by this, and a bit scared. A well-thought of prank was one thing; what my brother was capable of was something else entirely. His analyzing skills were deadly in his extracting of revenge. Thankfully in our few years together, I had stayed on his good side. I made a note to ask Mycroft about this prank.

I pulled out my phone reluctantly, knowing calling father was the only option to bury this issue. I typed in :Amarethurwill:, only to have 'try again' flash across my screen. I looked over my shoulder at my stubborn brother, asking him, "Sher, did you seriously change my password?" He looked around at me with his cheeky grin, a I'm-smarter-than-you look. I gave up on my phone, walking to the couch where his was thrown, picking it up and unlocking it with 'black'. (Despite being his favorite color, it was commonly used in crime organizations. The black palm, for instance.) I dialed father's number, getting an annoyed, "Yes, Sherlock?"

"Father, it's Aubrianna. Sherlock locked my phone and won't tell me the password."

I heard a groan on the other end, and could picture my father rubbing his forehead with his right hand before he replied, "You called me at eleven o'clock to tell me this why?"

I couldn't help but laugh a little before I continued, "No, no. I actually want to talk to the stepmother no one decided to tell me about apparently."

He complained about the late hour before giving in and excusing himself. A minute or so later, a woman with a lilting Irish accent answered the phone. She almost sounded like she was singing as she asked, "Hello? Who is this?"

"Hello, ma'am, this is Aubrianna Maren Holmes speaking. I'm the lesser-known little sister of Sherlock." She inhaled sharply when I said Sherlock, and I glanced up at him. He was staring at me, his violin forgotten. John shouted an indignant cry when my brother ran towards me, the bow raised as if it was a sword. I batted it away with my foot as I tried to steady my voice to ask, "I need to ask you the whereabouts of my two stepbrothers, as one who claims this title has appeared."

"Oh, you mean Richard? How is he? I haven't seen him in forever! Or did you mean Eli? How are my dear boys?" She almost kept rambling on, but stopped as she waited for my answer.

Fending off another stab from the violin bow, I responded, "It's Richard. I want to know what he looks like, just to know this certain one is lying or disillusioned."

She laughed. Gosh, she sounded so carefree. "He's tall too, has a roundish face and has black hair.” I watch Sherlock walk back to the window as I nodded to him. He began playing, probably to try to come to terms with his stepbrothers being criminals. “Yea, that sounds like him. I’ll call him, and tell him that I believe him now. That might cheer him up a little. God, this is so weird.”

She laughed, saying, “Nice to hear that. Visit me sometime, as long as you don’t come with your two brothers.” Again, I was shocked by her kindness. I uttered something along the lines of a good night as I yawned, preparing to hang up when I heard, “One more question, Aubrianna.”

“Yes?”

“If you don’t mind me asking, do you..do you know where your mother is?”

That innocent question punched me in the stomach. I suddenly couldn’t breathe. I fought back tears as I leaned on the wall to hide from Sherlock and John. Taking a deep breath, I choked out a “No” before hanging up and falling over in my sobs.

I could feel someone helping me stand up, and let myself be led to my bedroom, where I layed down to see Sherlock watching over me.

 

“We must find mumsy,” were my final words as I fell asleep instantly.


End file.
